


Fallen Human

by chocolatechipcumbercookie (labelleplume)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Demon!Dean, M/M, Season 9 Spoilers, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-06
Updated: 2014-08-08
Packaged: 2018-02-03 16:16:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1750832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/labelleplume/pseuds/chocolatechipcumbercookie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of the fight against Metatron, Sam and Cas are forced to confront the fact that Dean has become a demon.  With Cas' grace dwindling, they are determined to find a way to reverse the damage the Mark has wrought upon him.  But they're up against Crowley who seems to have become Dean's new best friend.   And Dean is no longer a person they recognize.  Perhaps their greatest obstacle to bringing him back to humanity, is Dean himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Cas looked at the hunched figure of Metatron in the jail cell. He had the same feeling he usually felt when the Winchesters told a joke and he missed the punchline.  Once Metatron could blow out holy fire and wipe away warding with the flick of his hand.  Now look at him.  He was a prisoner, brought low in heaven’s dungeon.  It was almost impossible not to see the irony.  Two angels had played at being God, and yet they were on opposite sides of the bars.

“What are you going to do about your grace?” Hannah asked.  Right, his grace.  Cas could it feel the heavenly power and fire inside of him, at once both making him whole and yet burning him out.  He knew he had to deal with it soon but it hardly seemed important at the moment.

“I don’t know,” Cas replied.

“If you don’t replenish your grace,” she continues, worried, “You’ll burn up and die.”  Cas’ gaze returns to Metatron.  Thinking back to what she said, that option didn’t seem so bad.  Grief engulfed him for a moment then Cas controlled it.  The other angels wouldn’t understand.  Hannah stood there, concerned about him, but why?  Was it because she felt any sort of friendship or attachment to him?  Or was it simply part of her angelic nature of trying to be good to everyone?  He didn’t harbor any ill will against her for it.  Cas knew she couldn’t help but be like that.  All the angels.  They could no more understand what he felt than they could stop being angels.

Cas gave her a smile small, “I’ll be okay.”  Lies.  It was the aftermath of the battle, and they had won hadn’t they?  Triumphed over Metatron, prevented needless angel deaths, saved the humans from tyranny.  The usual slew of things that he seemed to be up against lately.  They had won, but he had lost.

Then a spark of hope flared inside.  Sam and Dean had gone to heaven, hell, purgatory, and back.  There would be a way to bring Dean back.  Panic quickly replaced the hope.  Of course they’d always come back, and the other brother had paid the price.  Cas needed to find Sam and prevent him from doing something stupid to bring Dean back.  For a split second he hesitated.  Dean would be back.  Wasn’t that all that mattered?

“Shut up,” he muttered to himself.  That was an awful thought and Dean would never forgive him if Cas let his little brother sell his soul to Crowley to bring him back.

“Sorry, what?” Hannah asks confused.  Her face was so trusting Cas almost felt bad about lying to her.  About leaving her here to deal with the mess that Metatron had left in his wake.  She was kind however and focused; she could take over for a little while.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s nothing,” Cas told her, “But I need to go right now.  There’s something important I have to attend to.”’

Appearing outside of the Men of Letters’ bunker, he saw the Impala and for a second it felt like nothing had changed.  Sam and Dean would be inside tracking down Abaddon or working a case.  But as Cas opened the door he knew everything was different.  The scent of rotting eggs and sulfur immediately put him on alert.

“Sam no!”’ Cas yelled hoping to stop him before he sealed any demon deals.

“Cas?” a confused Sam replied from within.

“What are you doing?!” Cas called frantically, running to reach him.  It was amazing how such a small compound could have so many corners to turn.  It was like it was trying to make it difficult for him to reach Sam.  He found Sam in the storage room where they had imprisoned Crowley, all set up to summon a demon.

“Sam no, you can’t do that,” Cas tried to sway him.  The words were reluctant to come out of his mouth, not because he felt Sam should pay the price but because he wanted to make a deal with Crowley himself.  Sam would never allow it however, and Dean would be furious.

“I have to.  I told him that if he were in the position that I were in when he tricked me with Gadreel that I wouldn’t do the same for him.  But it wasn’t true.  I have to save him Cas,” Sam pleads.  His normally neat long hair was dishevelled and there was a raw hurt behind his eyes.  Sam was still in his ripped plaid shirt that was sprayed with Dean’s blood.  Cas wasn’t sure what was worse.  Being powerless to save Dean from a distance, or being unable to help Dean when he’s right there in his arms.

“No... no.  I failed him.  I was supposed to break the angel tablet but I didn’t do it in time.  I have to fix this, not you,” Cas sighed, weighed with guilt.

“Yeah well at least you did something.   I let Dean knock me out so I was useless the entire time!  Also, what’s the point of bringing Dean back if you’re not there?” Sam started to raise his voice.

“What’s the point if you’re not there??  This whole catastrophic domino effect started when he tried to save you!” Cas raised his voice in frustration too.

“That’s my point!  I’m not worth all of this trouble.  I was supposed to die Cas, I’m just putting things back to how they should be,” Sam attempted to explain.  The room seemed to get smaller as the anger and frustration grew.  It wasn’t even directed at each other but at the world that seemed determined to tear their small family apart.

“How they should be?  Define ‘should be’.  If things were how they should be, then all three of us should be dead and six feet under!” now Cas was yelling at Sam, “I stopped believing a long time ago in how things ‘should be’.  The apocalypse ‘should’ve’ happened.  It was written.  I ‘shouldn’t’ have rebelled.  But I did.  None of ANYTHING that’s happened ‘should’ve’ happened.  So don’t start telling me what should or shouldn’t happen or whether or you’re not worth the trouble!”  Cas was panting, used to being rather calm and collected, not given to bouts of passion or intense feelings.  Sam seemed rather taken aback by Cas’ show of emotion.

“But,” Sam said softly, “I’m not worth it.”

“Dean thought you were.  Simply because of the fact that he fought so hard for you, all his sacrifice makes you worth it.  And I am not going to let you throw that away,” Cas replied firmly.

“Too late,” Sam said, lighting up the spell.

“Aw, look at the lovers quarreling and then making up again.  It’s rather sweet in a ‘makes me want to puke’ kind of way,” a voice said behind them.  Cas and Sam turned to find Crowley smirking at them.  Crowley gestured sarcastically.

“Why so glum?  It’s like we haven’t just defeated Metatron or something,” he complained.

“Correction,” Sam interrupted, “‘We’, doesn’t include you.  Understand?”  Crowley glared at Sam.  Cas stepped a little closer to Sam, emphasizing the distinction between the two groups.

“Crystal clear.  You made that point quite obvious when we were tracking down the mystery resurrection girl.”

“Can you bring back Dean?” Sam asked.

“Sam no, you can’t do this,” Cas interjected.

“Watch me,” Sam snarled.  Cas looks at him incredulously for a moment.

“I won’t have to,” he answered thinking he could just use his angelic powers to knock Sam out.

“As it happens,” Crowley said breaking the tension, “I don’t need to.”

“Don’t need to?” Cas asked skeptically.

“Go and see.”

* * *

 

The door slammed open in Cas’ haste to get to Dean, but by the time he got there, it was already  too late.  The room was empty, the bloodstained sheets on the bed the only evidence that Dean’s body had lain there.  The stench of sulfur was thick in the air.

“He’s gone,” Cas reported back to Sam.

“Crowley, what have you done?” Sam demanded.  Crowley was dusting powder the spell threw up off his suit.

“Well, let’s see.  I got my customary massage this morning.  I appointed a few demons to positions that had been recently vacated…” Crowley smirked sarcastically.

“You know what we mean,” Cas told him him sternly.

“If you’re referring to Dean Winchester, then that’s a bit more complicated,” Crowley stalled.

“Define complicated,” Sam said taking a step forward.

The already towering Sam seemed to fill up more of the room as he grew more menacing.  As much as Cas wanted to be furious with Crowley, he kept his anger under control.  Cas had to be able to keep Sam in check.  Crowley snapped his fingers, and Dean appeared.

“Dean!” Cas cried rushing forward.

“Ah ah,” Crowley cautioned, holding his hands up, “Not just yet.”  In his joy at seeing Dean, Cas hadn’t initially noticed the changes.  Dean was still in his old bloodstained clothes, the stab mark clearly visible in his shirt.  The First Blade was gripped in his hand and he’s tensed as though ready for a fight.  And then, Cas saw his eyes.

Dean Winchester wasn’t dead.  It was everything he had hoped for.  But Cas almost wished Dean was.  The Dean that looked at him, was not the Dean he knew.  Dean blinked and his eyes turned pitch black.

“You have a demon riding my brother Crowley?!  What’s wrong with you?” Sam turned back to Crowley, his voice echoing in the small space.  Crowley glanced at Cas, clearly waiting for him to correct Sam.

“No Sam,” Cas said quietly, and yet it carried, “Dean isn’t possessed.  The Mark turned him into… a demon.”

“Dean can’t be a demon, that’s not…” Sam seemed bewildered by the turn of events.  Cas stared at Dean willing him to remember who he was.  Cain was a demon and yet he was able to control it.

“Hello Cas,” Dean said to him.  It had the traces of the old mockery, but this time it wasn’t in friendly banter.  The words seemed to twist in his mouth into something Cas didn’t recognize.  The truth that Cain had hundreds of years to perfect his control slapped him across the face and Cas knew that Dean was not going to be the same.  The Mark had corrupted his soul.

“Uh… Dean?” Sam seemed to be unsure how to proceed.  Only then did Dean acknowledge Sam.

“What happened to you?”  Dean considered the question, head tilted in a manner unnatural to him.  It was too calculated, too arrogant.  The mannerism seemed more fitting for an asshole CEO than the rough and tough attitude Dean usually carried.

“Metatron stabbed me.  Then I woke up like this.  Does that answer your question?” Dean asked.  Sam narrowed his eyes at Dean, but let the comment slide.

“Are you staying?” he asked.

“No I don’t think so,” Dean replied, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly.

“Well then, now that that’s all figured out, we have places we’d rather be, don’t we Dean?” Crowley inserted snidely.  And then they were gone.

White hot hatred for Crowley flared inside of Cas.  As much as he had disliked some of Crowley’s methods in previous situations, he’d had his uses and for a demon, he wasn’t so bad.  But this, this was beyond too far.  It was his idea that Dean get the Mark in the first place.  He got Dean into this mess that turned him into a demon.  Crowley mutilated Dean into something Cas couldn’t even describe, his sidekick, his pet killer.  The familiar way they seemed to act around each other, the fact that Dean chose to leave with him.  It was all _wrong_.

The only way to describe it was betrayal.  It was a feeling that Cas couldn’t shake, even knowing that Dean never wanted any of this.  Nothing else could contain the amount of hurt caused by that encounter.

“Cas,” Sam pulled him out of his thoughts, “What are we going to do?”  Cas stopped glaring at the floor and looked up at Sam.  His face set into an expression of cold determination.  It had the same sense of raw power a glacier gives off.  Indifferent to the efforts to stop it, inevitable, carving its way through stone.

“We’re going to find Dean’s humanity again.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

"Do the Men of Letters have any information about the Mark of Cain?" Cas asked Sam.  They had been poring over old writings all day searching for anything that might help them.  It had been a week since the meeting with Crowley and Dean and they were no closer to their goal.

"I've only found the old legends about the origin of the Mark.  Some of them are conflicting and it's confusing me.  One legend says that the Mark forces the bearer to become a wanderer but when we found Cain he had been living in that house for a while.  It obviously had the side effect of turning Dean into a killer but it doesn't even mention it here," Sam throws up his hands, "I don't know what's true or not."  It had been a long day.  So far they hadn't really learned anything that they didn't already know.  Cas reached over to pull the book Sam was reading towards him, in the process dislodging small stacks of papers off of the desk.  They fluttered in a chaotic flurry to the ground to join the growing pile of discarded research.

"You're right.  We're never going to find anything like this," Cas responded after scanning over the page Sam had been on.  He snapped the book shut, "We should go to the source."

"What, find Cain?" Sam asked incredulously.

"What did you think I was referring to?" Cas questioned in confusion.

"And how exactly are we supposed to do that?  Crowley was the one who found Cain last time and it's not like we can just call him up and ask for help.  He's not going to let us take Dean back so easily," Sam replied.

"So we find a spell that will let us locate him.  We can try summoning him," Cas said.

"He's a hermit Cas, a recluse.  Cain doesn't want to be found; he's not going to respond to a summoning.  Crowley doesn't appear half the time and he was at least, on somewhat friendly terms with us.  Cain gave the Mark to Dean even knowing what it would do to him.  Why should we trust him to help us now?" Sam said skeptically.

"It's the only way we're going to get answers.  We don't have to trust him, but we need to find him," Cas said.

"Fine," Sam agreed with reluctance, "But it's pretty late, we should save this for tomorrow.  Help me clean all these books up."

* * *

Despite it's weakening power, the stolen grace inside of him still made Cas an angel.  Which meant he couldn't sleep.  While Sam slept fitfully in his room, trying to regain some of his strength drained by exhaustion, Cas sat at the table staring at the wall thinking.  It didn't matter.  Even if he was human Cas doubted he would've been able to sleep.  There were too many thoughts running through his head to be conducive for rest.

A bottle of whiskey sat in front of him, left behind by Sam.  For lack of anything else to do, Cas took a swig.  Another side effect of becoming an angel again is that he couldn't really enjoy food and drink anymore.  The whiskey just tasted like atoms.  Besides he couldn't get drunk which was the point of the whole exercise.  Humans were lucky in some respects.  He'd managed to teach himself free will but it was the small things about being human that escaped him.  And for that reason he sometimes envied them.  But then Cas remembered how useless he'd been as a human and a small smile cracked his face.  He made a terrible hunter.  Cas was better off as an angel, able to help the Winchesters.

Help the Winchesters, that's what he needed to focus on.  It seemed like it was his perpetual mission.   Cas didn't mind.  They were his friends.   It wasn't logical and it didn't make sense to put the two of them before everything and everyone else.  But when has friendship ever been practical?  While Sam slept, Cas slipped away back to heaven.

"Cas!" Hannah exclaimed in surprise.  She smiled her bright smile and Cas felt the weight of everything that had happened lessen slightly.  Hannah was a good angel.  She frowned at him, "You look terrible."  Cas looked around them.  The few angels that were in the building were engrossed in their own tasks and he and Hannah were somewhat secluded in the office.  It was okay to let his guard down.

Cas shrugged at her, "It's been... difficult."  Already heaven looked different.  Traces of Metatron were slowly being swept away.   His stereotypical old-style office that looked like it should've been the opening scene of a PBS Literature show had been discarded to favor a more open and modern office.  It would take a long time for the angels to recover, but it looked like they were already well on their way.  Cas wished his own problems could be so easily resolved.

"Because of your grace?" she asked.  He shook his head.  "Then what is it?"

"Metatron killed Dean," Cas replied.

"Dean Winchester?  The man you brought in before?" Hannah checked.  Cas nodded affirmatively.  Hannah seemed unsure how to respond and Cas could see her trying hard to hide her disapproval.  He shouldn't have said anything.  His loyalty to Dean was what caused Hannah and the others to walk out in the first place.  Cas stood to leave.

"Wait!" Hannah said, "I know he was your friend."  Cas lingered, wondering where she was going with this.  "I'm sorry that Metatron killed him.  I just, please forgive me, but I don't understand how you became friends in the first place.  He seemed so violent and impulsive, a killer.  And you, Cas you try so hard to be good and to find peaceful resolutions to disputes between angels.  The two of you are polar opposites."  Hannah's face was full of confusion but Cas could see a genuine desire to understand.  He sat down again.

"Dean is what he is because he needs to be at the time.  He kills sometimes because he has to," he tried to explain.

"He had to kill Tessa?" Hannah asked skeptically.

"He didn't kill Tessa.  She killed herself.  Metatron was trying to frame me and sow discord among the ranks.  He succeeded," Cas said pointedly and she had the grace to look ashamed.  He continued, "Dean wasn't normally that violent.  He foolishly took on the Mark of Cain thinking it would enable him to defeat Metatron and that he was strong enough to withstand its effects.  He was wrong on both counts."  Hannah was astonished.

"The Mark of Cain?" she whispered, "But that's..."

"Dean is a good person Hannah.  He's saved me many times when I wasn't always the person you think that I am.  He took care of Sam, protected people, stayed loyal to me despite my many faults.  Violence is a tool he utilizes when necessary but there are many times when he has opted for the peaceful solution.  The world is not black and white, divided into good and evil, angels and demons.  There's just a whole lot of grey."  Hannah nodded, not fully comprehending the strange relationship between Dean and Cas but at the very least respecting it.

"You cared about him, I understand that now.  If there's anything I can do to help?" she suggested.

"Thank you, but you're helping me most by taking charge of heaven for the moment," Cas replied, grateful that she was at least more open to why Dean was important to him but thinking it was perhaps too soon to tell her that Dean was also a demon currently.

"I will do my best.  I'm having scouts go out to try and round up any angels in hiding and bring the scattered groups back," Hannah updated him.

"That's a wonderful idea.  I'm sorry but I have to leave you again," he apologized.

"Don't worry about it."

* * *

 

Sam had just woken up by the time Cas returned.

"I was beginning to wonder where you had gone," Sam told him, sleepiness making his voice a little rough.

"Just checking up on heaven.  Seems to be running fine in my absence," Cas explained.  Sam yawned before drinking down his morning coffee.

"Good, I don't want to have to deal with any angel issues at the moment.  Right now I'm more concerned about Cain.  We can't just use any tracking spell.  Dean didn't tell me the entire story due to the the fact that we weren't always on," Sam laughed, "great speaking terms.  But he did say he and Crowley had managed to find Cain using a tracking spell that a hunter named Tara had found.  Unfortunately, Tara is dead.  Not much help to us."

"Maybe we could find some of her friends or family.  They might know something about the spell," Cas suggested.  Sam looked at him skeptically.

"Cas, she was a hunter.  We fly solo.  Dean and I are the exception because we're brothers.  Plus it sounded like by the time they found her she'd given up on the project as a hopeless venture that had consumed her life.   I doubt even if we managed to find someone who used to know her that a) they'd want to help us considering that helping us got Tara killed, and b) that they would know anything about the spell since people thought Tara was crazy for pursuing it," Sam said.

There had to be a way to find the tracking spell.  They could go through all the lore until they found it, but it had taken Tara a lifetime.  The longer Dean stayed a demon, the harder it would be to turn him back.  Cas just had to figure out how to get Tara's knowledge...

"Of course!" Cas exclaimed.

"What?" Sam asked.

"We just need to talk to Tara!" Cas said excitedly.  Sam did a facepalm, struck by the simplicity of the answer.

"Why didn't I think of that?  Kevin said all the souls that died after the fall are stuck in the veil.  We should be able to communicate with Tara to find out the spell," Sam said in relief.

"Finally, we're getting somewhere," Cas smiled.  A small step, but it was one step closer to bringing Dean home.


	3. Chapter 3

Sitting shotgun in the Impala next to Sam, the scene was strikingly familiar for Cas.  Cas and Sam, the "Save Dean" team.  Dean preferred tapes, but with Sam driving he plugged in his phone.  Despite the introduced new technology, Sam listened to Dean's music.  Even though it didn't remotely amount to the real thing, it gave the impression that Dean was there.   "Eye of the Tiger" by Survivor blared from the speakers eliminating the need to talk.  The upbeat music was fitting.  Not that either of them forgot that Dean was a demon, but it felt good to be back on the road.  Rock music plus the Impala plus a mission, it was almost like old times.

Cas wondered if he could drive.  He knew how but had never actually been behind the wheel.  Dean would never let him drive simply because the Impala was his baby and he preferred to drive even though he knew Sam was perfectly capable.  But also because since Cas was a rookie at driving Dean wouldn't take that risk.  It was straight out here though in the country and they hadn't seen another car for maybe an hour.  Perhaps he could ask Sam.

"Hey Cas there's a gas station coming up in a mile.  I need to stop and refill and probably get some food as well.  Is that okay with you?" Sam asked.

"Don't you need more gas in order to keep the car running?" Cas inquired.

"Well yes..." Sam said slowly.

"Then why would you ask my permission?" Cas seemed perplexed.

"I'm not- ah never mind I'm just going to stop when it comes up," Sam sighed in exasperation.  They pulled into the gas station and Cas proceeded to watch Sam gas the car, fascinated by the mechanics of it all.

"I never knew you were so interested in the workings of cars," Sam commented.  

"Humans are such inventive creatures aren't they?" Cas commented wonderingly.  Sam laughed at Cas' amazement.  Afterward they went to the diner next door.

"Table for two?" Sam asked the waitress at the door.  She flashed a brilliant smile.

"Of course."  She led them to a small booth next to a window.  The afternoon sun was bright in the cloudless blue sky.  Sam situated himself so that the columns of wall separating the windows was shading his face from the blinding light.  Once they were settled, Sam ordered.

"Could I have a turkey sandwich and a water please?  Cas do you want anything?" Sam checked.

"No thank you," Cas shook his head.

"You got it," the waitress said flashing her cheerful smile again.  Cas looked down with a small smile on his face.  Sam gave him a strange look.

"What?" he asked.

"It's nothing, just you're different from Dean.  Dean would've gotten a double cheeseburger, a giant thing of fries, and pie to top it off if he could.  You don't share his love of unhealthy food.  It amuses me," Cas explained.  Sam chuckled under his breath.

"Yeah Dean and I are brothers and we have hunting in common, but that's about it.  I mean sometimes I've resented being a hunter because I wanted a normal life.  But in the end I am grateful for it.  I don't think Dean and I would be as close as we are if we didn't have hunting," Sam said.  Cas tried to imagine the brothers if they weren't hunters but couldn't.  It was too ingrained in them, more than just an occupation but their family, their life.  Sam would've made a good lawyer no doubt, but it was indisputable that he made a better hunter.  The waitress with the pretty smile returned with Sam's food.

"Anything else I can do for you boys?" she asked.

"Thanks, but no," Sam told her.  She smiled her pretty smile again and left them to eat.  Cas wondered at her inexhaustible source of enthusiasm and energy.  The waitress seemed full of life in the most of unlikely of places.  A gas station diner in the middle of nowhere.  Incredible.

"Sam," Cas started, "Could you teach me how to drive?"

"Uh sure if you want.  Why do you ask?" Sam replied.

"Curiosity.  And if I don't figure out how to fix my grace I may end up human again.  Driving seems like a useful skill."  Sam nodded thoughtfully, taking another bite of his sandwich.

Out in the Impala, Cas sat in the driver's seat for the first time while Sam nervously took shotgun.  Sam had shown Cas all the basic controls and what they did.  Now it was time to test it out.

"So I use the key to turn the car on?" Cas asked looking at Sam for approval and he nodded.  The car roared into life, vibrant and well-tuned due to Dean's love and care.  Cas slowly pressed on the gas to get the car moving.

"Sam, the car's not moving.  Why isn't the car moving?" Cas panicked, pressing harder on the gas pedal.  The car revved more but refused to move.

"Whoa!  Cas calm down.  You forgot to take the car out of park," Sam explained, biting back a laugh.

"Oh.  Right."  Cas put the gear shift into reverse, backing out of the parking space.

"Now put it into drive," Sam reminded him.  Cas slowly pulled the car out of the gas station, settling into the controls.

"See, it's really not that bad," Sam said encouragingly.

"Thanks Sam."  A long empty stretch of straight road ran ahead and Cas prepared for a long drive.  He didn't relax entirely, too afraid of crashing Dean's car.  There was no time for extended parking lot driving practice.  With the Winchesters, you hit the ground running and learn as you go along.

* * *

 

"Sam," Cas said.  Sam's head was leaned against the window; he was fast asleep.

"Sam!" Cas tried again.  Sam jolted awake.

"We're here," Cas informed him.

"You managed to find it by yourself?" Sam asked.

"Well I followed the instructions you wrote down for me..." Cas answered.  Tara's shop was empty and a "For Rent" sign hung in the window with a phone number to call for interested parties.  Sam sat up and took in the scene.  People strolled up and down the sidewalk going to and fro between the small shops along the street in the evening light.  Cas could see the sleep falling from him and the hunter coming out.  It didn't come as easily to him as it did to Dean.  For Sam, being a hunter was like putting on a worn coat; it was comfortable but it wasn't his own skin.  In contrast it was impossible to distinguish between Dean the person and Dean the hunter.  They were one and the same.

"We're going to have to wait until much later. and then break in.  Until then we should find a place to stay for the night." Sam instructed.  Cas found a nearby motel and pulled into the parking lot.  Considering it was his first attempt at parking he did fairly decently.  Well, he didn't hit anyone at least.  Whether or not he went over the line or was crooked was a different story.  Sam was kind enough not to tease him about it.  Cas stayed by the car while Sam went to rent a room.  He walked around the parking lot stretching his legs.  Fatigue was not unknown to him; he'd had to deal with it constantly during his stint as a human.  As an angel however, it was practically unheard of.  He would have to do something about his grace soon.

"I got it," Sam called out to Cas tossing him the room key card while he opened the trunk.  He pulled out his laptop and a few weapons just in case while Cas opened the room.  Cas entered and became confused.  Sam had rented a room with two beds.

"Sam, I don't need a bed," Cas tried to explain.  Sam looked at him strangely.

"Yeah you kind of do," he responded.

"I don't need to sleep Sam; you could've rented a room with just one bed," Cas said like it should've been obvious.

"I know that Cas but I felt like you needed somewhere to sit or something while I got rest.  Just having you stand all night is weird okay?" Sam began then looked away and flushed slightly, "Also it would give the wrong impression."

"Oh, right.  It would be unwise to alert other people to the fact that I don't need sleep," Cas nodded understandingly.  Sam stared at him for a moment with his mouth open as if he were going to say something then he closed it again, apparently deciding against it.  He checked the alarm clock sitting on the nightstand.

"Wake me up at midnight.  I'm going to get some rest alright?" Sam asked.  Laying down on the bed and rolling away from Cas to face the wall, within 10 minutes he was fast asleep again.  Cas marveled at the Winchesters' ability to fall asleep almost upon command.  He supposed it was a habit ingrained into them from years of having irregular sleep patterns.  They learned to get sleep whenever they could because who knew when they would get a chance to really rest again?

With nothing to occupy him, Cas returned to the question of Dean.  He hoped that Cain would be able to give them some answers and shed some light on a solution but he was not optimistic about the chances of the other party's cooperation.  On the one hand, Cain was not the violent character the old Biblical stories made him out to be.  He did not murder his brother Abel in a jealous rage but instead was trying to save him.  Cas was not naive however.  There was no denying the monstrous atrocities that Cain committed as a demon regardless of his early good intentions.  As unwilling as Cas was to admit it, Cain was right about one thing, Dean was like him.  On a much smaller scale Dean was just like Cain.  He'd been to Hell and committed unspeakable evil as a result of his time there.  His ending up in Hell was also the result of trying to save his brother.  And Dean was a killer.  Albeit he killed monsters, demons, and angels, very rarely people and when he did kill he usually had a very good reason to do so.

But, Cas remembered one thing that set Dean apart from Cain and he brightened.  Dean would never give up.  No matter what happened or however hard the going got, he never gave up.  Cain did.  When Dean and Crowley had gone to see him, Cain had simply stayed back and watched as Dean fought the demons off single handedly.  Dean never gave up, so neither would Cas.  He wasn't giving up on Dean Winchester.

That was the last thing he remembered before falling asleep on the bed.


	4. Chapter 4

"Cas," Sam said.  Cas blinked awake bleary-eyed, slowly becoming aware of Sam standing over him where he lay sprawled on the hotel bed.  The clock on the dresser read that it was 12:20 AM.

"I was supposed to wake you up at midnight.  Sorry," Cas apologized still not fully comprehending his surroundings.

"You made a lot of use of a bed you said you didn't need," Sam said, his mouth turned down in a held back smile.

"I fell asleep," Cas said slowly.

"Yes, I can see that," Sam responded.

"No you don't understand, I  _can't_ fall asleep.  I'm an angel," Cas said, looking down at his hands searching for some sign that something had changed.  He could still feel the grace inside of him, it was just weaker.  Whereas initially it had been a force to be contained by his vessel, now it felt like the wisps of energy barely pushed at the boundaries or in some cases didn't at all.  Cas pushed himself up on the bed, shaking off the panic.

"Let's go."

* * *

 Cas stood on the sidewalk keeping watch while Sam jimmied the lock open of Tara's shop.  It seemed to be a calm night, a crescent moon peeking out just above the horizon.  Instead of it's usual bright white or silvery smile, it glowed a hazy gold like a cheesy moment from a chick flick.  He heard a click behind him and turned to see Sam opening the door.  Inside, there were still some traces of Tara's violent death.  Blood droplets stained the wooden floor and the bullet holes in the devil's trap were still there.

"Guess they were waiting for someone to rent before renovating?" Sam commented.  Cas took in the scene quietly.

"If I hadn't screwed up heaven Tara might be there right now, happy," Cas berated himself, "Instead she's stuck in the veil along with countless other souls.  Who knows how many of them might turn restless and violent?"

"Cas, it's okay.  You didn't screw up heaven, Metatron did.  And it sucks that all the souls are stuck in the veil.  I know.  I wish Kevin were able to be up in heaven right now too.  But at least Tara will be able to help us," Sam comforted.  Cas nodded, not quite convinced.  Dragging back the rug, they had to find a pristine part of the floor to draw the pentagram on.  Remnants of the devil's trap or blood spots would ruin the symbols.  The immense difficulty they had in finding a spot, sobered them as they pondered Tara's fate.  Cas wondered if Dean would ever turn like that.  Would he be able to kill Dean?  He didn't want to think about it.  Finally Sam was able to draw a pentagram inscribed in a circle.  Cas lit candles and placed them on the points of the star.

" _Amate spiritus obscure, te quaerimus, te oramus, nobiscum colloquere **,** aput nos circita,_" Sam invoked.  At first, nothing.  Cas could hardly blame her if she didn't want to show up.  It was their, well it was Dean and Crowley's fault actually, but still, it wasn't like she owed them any favors.  Then the air chilled a bit and Cas shivered from the cold.  A rickety old fan that no one had bothered to take out of the store began to spin with a raspy creaking sound.

"Well well, look who we have here.  John Winchester's other son.  How ya doin' Sam?" Tara asked, appearing behind the counter by the cash register.

"I'm uh- doing just fine, thank you Tara," Sam smiled awkwardly and couldn't seem to find something to look at.

"Bullshit.  You're in my old store summoning me in the dead of night I'm assuming not just have a chat with one of your dad's dead friends.  What do you want?" Tara demanded in her typical brusque manner.

"We need to know the spell you gave to Dean to find the First Blade," Sam explained.  Tara narrowed her eyes.

"You're after that old thing again?  Look if it didn't work the first time it's not going to work this time," she told them, folding her arms in disapproval.

"Actually, it did work.  But we need to find it again," Sam replied evasively.

"You found the First Blade?  And then you  _lost_ it??" Tara exclaimed in disbelief.

"In a manner of speaking," Sam shrugged.  Tara shook her head.

"I'm not buying it.  There's something you're not telling me.  And why didn't Dean come with you?  Why'd he send you to find me in the next life instead of doing it himself?" Tara sounded almost wistful.  Dean had reminded her of John.  Sam opened his mouth to give another explanation but before he could, Cas interrupted.  They weren't going to get anywhere with her by trying to feed her cock-and-bull stories.

"Dean is a demon Tara," Cas said.  It was painful saying the truth aloud, acknowledging it to someone else.  Until then he hadn't spoken and Tara had chosen to ignore him, talking instead to Sam.  Her eyes widened as she turned towards him and the lights flickered in her emotional distress, sparks coming from a broken one behind the register.

"How did Dean become a demon?" Tara asked.  Cas met her gaze with his own piercing blue eyes, willing her to understand just how desperate they were for her help.

"He took on the Mark of Cain.  Crowley's suggestion," Cas growled in anger.  Tara closed her eyes slowly in resigned frustration.

"Well damn.  I told him not to trust that demon, especially not if he was the King of Hell.  But he wouldn't listen.  That boy is as stubborn as his father, that one," she shook her head sadly.

"Can you help us?" Sam interjected.

"Fortunately the demons that came after me were low level and not particularly intelligent.  They were more concerned with finding the whereabouts of Dean and Crowley than asking what they came looking for.  Sam behind the register under the counter, the floorboard to the far right should be loose," Tara instructed.  Sam went to follow her orders and a cloud of dirt and dust enveloped him for a moment as he pulled the floorboard free.  Coughing and waving his hands to clear the dust it became clear that there was a box hidden underneath.  Cas lifted it out and opened it.

"There you go, when we did the spell before we didn't use up all the ingredients.  There should be enough left for one more go then it's shot.  You're going to have to get more if you want to do this again.  That Crowley fellow even left some extra essence of kraken.  You're lucky," Tara commented.

"I think calling us lucky is going a bit far," Sam said sarcastically.

"I'm dead," she replied.

"Good point," Sam conceded.  The ingredients mixed together to form a distasteful brown fluid that left one wondering why children always believe magic and spells to be full of rainbows and butterflies.  Even the evil spell of Snow White's stepmother formed a beautiful red apple.  Sam poured it over the map and lit a match.  The solitary flame bravely attempting to light the darkened and haunting store seemed only too similar to their faint hope set against all their misfortune.  The match fell from his fingers, tumbling through the air to ignite the map.   The edges of the map curled and turned black, shrinking inward until there was only the location of Cain left.

" _Las Vegas??"_   Sam said in disbelief.  He stared at the map remnant as though it would change cities if he looked at it long enough.  Cas turned to Tara.

"Are you sure this is the right spell?  Did it work correctly?" he demanded.

"Now don't you get testy with me young man.  Yes that's the right spell.  I would've have ruined my right leg for the wrong incantation," Tara said slightly offended.

"This is the same guy that was all about tending bees?  I thought he was supposed to be in retirement," Sam thought aloud.

"Hold on, I thought you boys were looking for the First Blade.  Who is 'he'?" Tara queried.

"Last time, the spell led Dean and Crowley to Cain.  We're trying to find him to see if he knows how to cure Dean," Cas explained.  Tara looked askance.

"You two?  The two of you boys are going to find Cain, the Father of Murder?  See I thought Dean was stupid for looking for the First Blade, but I must say Sam, you've outdone him," Tara laughed.  Sam's posture straightened defensively.

"I've got Cas.  He's an angel of the Lord."  Tara passed a hand over her face.

"I keep thinking this is going to stop getting funnier.  Your brother shows up after I hadn't seen John in God knows when towing the King of Hell along.  Soon after, you show up summoning me from the veil with an angel of the Lord.  The irony would kill me if I weren't already dead," Tara chuckled.  She stops for a moment and squints at Cas.

"You're an angel?" she asked.

"Yes, I am," Cas responded.  She shakes her head in confusion.

"I would never have known.  Are all angels so human?" Tara inquired.  Cas didn't meet Sam's questioning glance.

"No.  I'm just different."  The way he said it didn't invite further questions.  An awkward silence stretched for a few minutes before Sam finally cleared his throat.

"Well thank you Tara.  We apparently have a long road trip to get going on to Las Vegas of all places," he said.  Tara nodded her head in acknowledgement.

"Of course.  And Sam?  If you have time do you think you could get around to fixing the veil problem?  It's getting quite crowded here."

"I'll see what I can do," Sam replied.  Cas headed out the door with Sam right behind him.  He headed for the driver's seat and opened the door but Sam reached around him and closed it, planting his hand firmly against the frame of the car.

"You're exhausted Cas.  Get some rest," Sam told him.  Cas acquiesced and got in on the passenger side.  He leaned his head against the window, watching the streetlights go by as Sam headed out of town.  The Impala gave off a low hum of a well tuned car and gradually, it lulled Cas into a sense of calm.

"Thank you Sam," Cas murmured, already losing consciousness.  He slipped away into better dreams where Dean was human and Sam wasn't sick.  Where their small family was united and happy.  He hoped dreams wouldn't be the only place they were together.


	5. Chapter 5

It's funny how caring about someone changes you.  You think you know what you would and wouldn't do, where your limits are.  You spend your whole life trying to decide who you are, and right as you think you find an answer, that person makes you forget again.  Sweeps everything you think you know away in the blink of an eye until the only thing you really know, the only thing you're really sure about, is the person standing in front of you.  And damn it all if Cas wasn't going to make Dean stand in front of him again.

He was awake in the passenger seat, but Cas kept his eyes closed, not wanting to alert Sam to the fact that something was wrong.  Something was very, very, wrong.  Cas tried to keep as still as possible to avoid wincing.  A rash had formed on his collarbone.  He wondered if this was anything at all like what humans refer to as an allergic reaction although it was probably more severe.  It was an allergic reaction in a way, his vessel was reacting badly to the sparks of his dwindling grace breaking off.  The skin looked burned and at the same time translucent and it was extremely painful.  The last time his vessel had degraded so badly was when he tried to contain all the souls of Purgatory inside of him.  His body was failing him.  Cas used to think of it as Jimmy Novak's body, in the very beginning.  His body was far greater and more powerful than this vessel could ever reflect.  Before the fall he had magnificent wings that could take him anywhere, his true form was as bright as the Sun, and his very steps would quake the Earth.  Losing his grace diminished him greatly however.  His true form didn't shine as brightly anymore.

But this was his body now.  Jimmy Novak had long left and gone to his own personal heaven, no longer chained to the comet that was Castiel.  And after a while, he began to view it as his true form.  This was him now.  An angel, but one with free will who could empathize with humanity.  This was his body, the only body that had ever known the name Cas.  And he was Cas, more than he was Castiel.

The sound of tires on dirt and gravel finally made Cas open his eyes.  They were at a motel and in the distance the bright lights of the Vegas Strip were visible.  Cas looked at the building there were going to be staying in and laughed quietly.  It must be the nicest cheap motel they'd ever stayed in.  But then again, it was Las Vegas.  Even their motels were fancy.  They checked in, dropped off their stuff, and proceeded to the Strip.

They tried to blend in, they really did.  But it's hard to blend in with show performers and people in beautiful clothes when your own look like they haven't been washed in weeks.  In comparison to everyone else, they might as have well been homeless.  And so it was that their target found them, rather than the other way around.

"Well don't you two look like a couple of lost puppies."  Sam and Cas turned around.  They had been wandering inside the Bellagio wondering if they were ever going to be able to find anyone in this incessant crowd.

Dean stood there clean cut and in a sharp suit, his eyes glittering mischievously.  They weren't pitch black at the moment; Cas was comforted to see Dean's familiar brilliant green eyes.  But it was almost as though he could see the black just behind it.  A darkness hidden inside of him, just barely held back from the surface.  He could of course see Dean's true form if he wanted to, but he was shielding his eyes from it.  Cas was afraid it would be too different from the Dean he knew.  He was afraid that he'd see that Dean really was lost forever.

"Looking for somebody?" Dean asked with a smirk.

The three of them stood off to the side and people walked around them hardly noticing they were there.  Cas wondered if that was some working of Dean's or their rather aggressive stances towards each other that warned people,  _stay out of this._

"We were looking for Cain," Sam said, eyes narrowing.  Dean shuffled his Italian dress shoe clad feet and pretended to look around.

"Yeah Cain's not here.  I'm here.  You tried to use that spell didn't you?" Dean asked.

"What of it?" Sam shot back.  Dean laughed under his breath like they'd missed the joke.

"The spell leads you to the Mark of Cain asshats.  Which leads you to me, not Cain.  What do you want with that ancient relic anyway?  Trying to find some magical way to save me?" Dean questioned, the last mocking question directed clearly at Cas.

"We're going to save you Dean," Cas said firmly.  And it was Cas' solid faith that they would save Dean that finally broke the charade.  That superior, make light of everything attitude faded.  It must have been exhausting to have to keep that up in front of them all the time.  He looked at them seriously, for the first time like the old Dean, a tint of sadness in the lines of his face.

"Sam, Cas, you have to let me go.  The Mark of Cain is incurable.  There's no way to bring me back.  I am a demon, forever, you understand that?" Dean growled, "I am trying to stay away from you because this thing on my arm, this blade in my hand?  It compels me to kill.  And I don't want it to be you I find in the way of my blade."  He looked at Sam with that kind of brotherly expression he used to have, but it seemed more distant now.

"Sammy, walk away.  Just walk away.  We've defeated Metatron, heaven's getting back in order, Hell is running the usual business.  You have a chance to finally lead a normal life without me dragging you down.  That's what's always been the problem right?  You find a nice place, a nice girl, settle down, and then I show up and screw it all up for you.  Well viola!  Your life is officially Dean-free.  You can be normal now," Dean said sincerely, truly wanting Sam to be happy.

"Dean," Sam's laugh seemed a bit forced, "I am anything, but normal.  I've been a demon blood-addict, had the power to destroy demons, temporarily the true vessel of Lucifer and then soulless.  Hardly the description of a grade A normal human being.  I tried for most of my life trying to be something that I'm not.  I can't turn my back on the Supernatural and pretend that night when I found Dad's journal didn't happen and all of this was a bad dream.  And I certainly don't want my life to be Dean-free.  You're my brother and we're family.  You always remind me of that.  You're the only constant thing in my life.  Sorry if I'm not ready to give that up."

Dean seemed to be momentarily speechless.  Then he coughed, pulling out a white handkerchief from his pocket to cover his mouth.  It came away red.  Another cough racked his body and he fell slightly.  Cas caught him and helped him up, Dean gripping his shoulder.

"What's happening to you?" Cas asked.

"I told you, the Mark compels me to kill.  If I don't, my health deteriorates.  I won't be able to resist much longer," Dean explained breathless.  His grip on Cas' shoulder became uncomfortably tight and his other hand was trembling.  Dean clenched it into a fist to try and stop the trembling but it kept going.

"Get out of here Cas," Dean coughed again.

"I'm not leaving you here like this!" Cas protested.  Dean threw Cas off of him and looked down on him with pitch black eyes.  For a split second Cas lost his concentration and saw Dean as he really was.  A dark menacing creature with ebony wings and the twisted nature of his soul was clear, hatred had been planted.  And yet Cas was astonished at the beauty of Dean's true form.  It seemed that no matter what shape Dean was in he still carried that confident rough grace that Cas knew so well.  Dean was wounded from trying to resist, pieces of humanity remained.  Cas didn't know how long they would last.

"Sam!  Take Cas, and GO!" he yelled at them, panic clear in his dark eyes.  His hand wasn't trembling anymore.  The First Blade slid out of his sleeve expertly into his hand.  Dean gripped it, and a faint red aura seemed to surround him.  This wasn't their Dean.

Sam pulled Cas up from the floor and together they ran out of the building.  Red light glowed from behind them but they dare not look back.  They only tried to close their ears to the screams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea of how Cas felt about his vessel came from a comic posted on Tumblr that I saw. I tried to find the original comic to post here as a reference but I can't find it at the moment.


	6. Chapter 6

Hell was different from what Dean remembered. There was very little torture, if any. At least, not the kind that he endured during his previous stay here. Yes a select few who had truly earned an eternity of torture were screaming in far off rooms. But for the most part Dean just watched the endless lines of people waiting to get nowhere. If eventually you got to the front of the line, you simply walked to the end to wait again. The changes were compliments of Crowley. Now that he was a demon as powerful as he was, he could jump to and from Hell whenever he wanted. Initially, Dean had stayed away. He didn't want to go back to Hell, didn't want to be a demon. But in the aftermath of the Las Vegas slaughter, he'd slipped away to find refuge here.

It was ironic.  Find refuge in Hell?  Who would have thought?  Certainly not Dean Winchester, for whom the word Hell only brought on shudders, cold sweats, and nightmares.  But he found peace here, watching the people go by.  He was not compelled to join in their long waits.  Rather, it had the effect that a Japanese Zen garden might have.  Sitting in one of the waiting room chairs that were not offered to the people in line, Dean could have time alone to his thoughts.  He wondered if the reason he found peace here was because it was where he truly belonged.  And this time there would be no Castiel to save him, no one to pull him from perdition, no one to grip him tight and never let go.

"I told you this would happen," Crowley said quietly, approaching cautiously from the far side of the room.  He held his hands up in a kind of peace offering gesture.

"I could kill you, you know," Dean retorted, not even bothering to look at him.  The First Blade spun endlessly in his fingers, the touch and feel of it both calming him and making him sick at the same time.  Crowley sat next to him.

"You could, but you won't," Crowley shrugged.

"And you know that because?" Dean commented skeptically.

"Because you're Dean Winchester that's why.  That's not how you do things.  You don't kill needlessly," Crowley looked at Dean seriously.  Dean laughed humorlessly in reply.

"That's how I used to do things.  Now look at me," Dean gestured at the TV mounted on the wall of the waiting room where scenes of his rampage at the Bellagio were playing on the news, "Look at all those people I killed."

"Dean, you're fighting something you can't change.  That's why you lost control.  If you had done what I had told you to begin with, that mess would never have happened."

"Which was what?  Kill demons you don't like?  Be your personal assassin?  Don't insult me," Dean turned away from Crowley.

"Well when you put it that way, it sounds like a blow to your pride.  But then again," Crowley glanced at the TV again, "whatever shreds of dignity you had before have all but vanished."  Dean's hands clenched into fists, the anger rising up in him again but it suddenly subsided.  He didn't contradict Crowley because he knew it was true.  He had nothing left.

"You're really good at the pep talks you know?  No wonder your son hated you," Dean shot back, looking for a way to wound.  Crowley stiffened for a second, the remnants of humanity in him reacting to the reference to his son.  The son Abaddon had saw fit to bring into the future to force him into cooperation.  The son he'd saved from his death.  Crowley relaxed, knowing Dean too well to take him seriously.

"I'm not here to baby you.  If you want to be a loose cannon likely to go on a killing rampage at any second, be my guest.  But I am trying to help you Dean," Crowley said in earnest.  Dean slammed the First Blade into the arm of Crowley's chair but Crowley didn't flinch.

"Why?" he asked brokenly.  Crowley rolled his eyes and gave a frustrated sigh.

"It's like talking to a child.  Hello?  Crowley?  King of Hell!  Would it not be in my best interests to help you get a hold of yourself so you don't go destroying everything I have spent the last few months trying to put together in a silly temper tantrum?  You keep thinking that the world is trying to punish you for your own personal faults, that you don't deserve to be saved, that you should just give up and die.  And here I thought I was dealing with a Winchester," Crowley throws his hands up in the air with an expression of the utmost exasperation.  In a flash Dean was up on his feet and had pinned Crowley to the wall with one hand by his collar.  Some of the guard demons looked in questioningly, wondering if they should intervene.  Dean glared at them, the First Blade ready in his free hand.  Crowley waved them down.

"That's more like it," he said a bit choked, "Now if you could just put me down, that would be greatly appreciated."  Dean made a face at him, then released his grip.  Crowley fell with slight thump against the wall.

"You were dead, and I thought, maybe that's the end.  The Winchester boys will finally be separated.  Don't you see, the Mark of Cain saved you.  I haven't seen many miracles in my time, but that was one of them."

"You call this a miracle?  Crowley I swear to -" Dean coughed.  The word seemed to get stuck in his throat, difficult to swallow, even harder to say.

"Easy there, still adjusting to the demon life.  You're not thinking big enough.  Think of what you can do!  You may just be one of the most powerful demons alive right now.  You could take on angels if you wanted to.  That war is still going on.  Metatron's been defeated sure.  But you don't think someone else will seize the chance to take his place?" Crowley questioned.  He started pacing excitedly, overwhelmed by the possibilities.

"They're angels, give them free will and they run around like chickens with their head cut off.  They don't know what to do, who to follow.  The few angels who have had the presence of mind to do something with their new found ability to choose seem to lean towards the world domination option.  All except for Castiel.  Well, he had his phase.  But he's done with that now."  Dean watched Crowley intently as he paced the room.  He stopped and faced Dean.

"You could help Castiel if you wanted to.  Change the course of the war.  Win it decisively.  And I could teach you to control the Mark so that eventually you could stop killing like Cain did,"  Crowley shrugged, "Or you could sulk down here forever, convinced the world hates you.  Your choice."

Crowley vanished.  Dean watched him go silently, not trusting himself to say anything at the moment.  If he was honest with himself, maybe it was because he was afraid that Crowley was right.  Already the thought of Crowley's proposition made Dean feel better, and the urge to kill receded.  He was slightly frightened at how much he liked his new abilities.  It warred with the repulsion he also felt for them.  But the longer he stayed a demon, the less convincing those human instincts became.  Dean walked over to the waiting chair, pulling the First Blade from the arm.  It fit perfectly into his hand, the weight of the blade comforting.  It felt right to hold it.  He only wished his decision of how to proceed was so clear cut.

Dean wanted to help Cas.  He wished that he could make something good come out of this nightmare he was in.  But then again, his plans to help people usually ended in disaster.  He wanted to save Sam.  He allowed Gadreel to possess him, believing that it was for the best.  He'd saved Sam, but at a terrible price.  Kevin was dead and stuck in the veil.  Dean couldn't shake the feeling that attempting to help Cas would have a similar result.  Someone else he loved would become collateral damage of his own stupidity.  The hunter in him wanted to protect, but if anything, he needed to protect Sam and Cas from himself.  Dean just didn't know if he could trust himself with this power.  Or Crowley for that matter.  But Crowley was all he had now.  Dean shook his head in confusion, the well defined paths he had always set for himself suddenly gone, and he found himself lost in the forest.


	7. Chapter 7

Cas awoke with a start.  It was three in the afternoon.  Just because Cas had begun to sleep didn't mean that his sleep schedule was anything close to resembling normal humans.  He fell asleep at random hours, awaking for reasons still unknown to him.  It wasn't as if the exhaustion really left even when he did sleep.  If anything, sleep was just his way for escaping it for a few hours, slipping into blissful unconsciousness.  But this was different.  This wasn't the usual strange and vague transition from foggy sleep to dreary awakeness.  It was as if something had pulled him from his slumber.

_Castiel._

Cas started, taken by surprise.  No one had contacted him by angel radio in a while.

_Hannah?_

_Yes of course it's Hannah.  I've been trying to speak to you for hours.  What have you been doing?_

_Sleeping, sorry._

_You were... sleeping?_

_It's a long story._

_Well you'll have plenty of time to explain yourself later._

Cas' eyes narrowed.  Even on angel radio, Cas could detect a hint of animosity.

_What do you mean?_

_We need to talk.  Now._

* * *

Coming back to heaven after a few weeks was a drastically different experience than the last time he was here.  Angels gave him sideways glances.  Some looked concerned, others openly hostile, but everyone seemed to take some interest in him.  Cas reached Hannah's office, updated since last time he was here with some more personal touches that made it feel more like Hannah.  Hannah herself sat behind the desk, her long wavy dark brown hair concealing her expression for the moment before she looked up and tucked it behind her ear.  The chair in front of the desk slid out at Hannah's prompting.

"Sit."  Cas sank into the rigid metal chair wondering what this was all about.  Hannah's eyes pierced into him with a fierceness that Cas was not used to seeing in them.  Without looking down she slid several pictures across the desk to him.  Cas glanced down then quickly looked away, fighting the urge to vomit.

"Do you want to explain this to me?" Hannah said evenly.

"Those... those are our angels..." Cas breathed out, quite pale.

"Our angels?  Yes Castiel.   _Our_ angels.  Do you know what that means that they're our angels?" Hannah questioned.  Cas met her gaze.

"What are you implying?  You can't possibly think that I had anything to do with those brutal murders," Cas replied aghast.

"It means that they trust you.  That  _I_ trust you.  Or at least, I did," Hannah sat back into her chair with her arms folded, "Did I or did I not follow your orders to take care of heaven while you were gone?"

"You did," Cas answered.

"And how exactly am I supposed to do that, if I don't inspire any kind of trust in you to confide in me any details I need to know to carry out my duties successfully?" Hannah angrily asked.

"Hannah, what are you talking about?" Cas finally asked to get the worst of it over.

"I'm talking about Dean still being alive Castiel!  I'm talking about sending out a patrol of angels to gather any stragglers and at one of their locations a certain demon named after someone you assured me to be  _dead_ shows up and slaughters almost all of them.  I'm talking about why did you LIE to me Castiel?" Hannah demanded.  Cas sat in a stupor of astonishment.

"Dean did that?" he asked quietly.

"Yes.  All of it, was him," Hannah answered, before giving out a sigh, "The few angels that made it out there alive said he kept yelling at his victims to, 'Stay away from Cas!'  He didn't seem to be able to distinguish between the rogue angels and your followers.  They were indiscriminately killed.  The survivors said he had the Mark of Cain and wielded the First Blade.  It would seem, that we have a new Father of Murder."

The silence following Hannah's recount was deafening.  The overly trusting angel seemed to have finally reached her limit.  Cas couldn't meet her accusatory stare.  Instead he traced the grooves in her wooden desk as he tried to understand what Dean was doing.  The incident at the casino had been random, but this, this was clearly premeditated and targeted.  Dean was hunting down rogue angels.  For what purpose, Cas couldn't fathom.  They weren't a threat to him; they had been gradually finding their way back to heaven and were met with Cas and his angels' welcome open arms.

"Even if he hadn't just eliminated one of our patrols single-handedly, did you really think we wouldn't find out Castiel?  I mean the fiasco at the Bellagio is all over the news.  And I couldn't help but notice a familiar figure in a tan trench coat in the security footage and photos they've been showing.  Castiel, what were you thinking?" Hannah seemed to be trying to find words to make the situation make sense but couldn't.

"I didn't want to lie to you Hannah," he started.  She raised her eyebrows incredulously.

"And that's supposed to make me feel better?  I trusted you Castiel.  I trusted you again after everything that's happened and this is what you do.  I thought..." Hannah trailed off.

"You thought what?" Cas asked her, head tilted in confusion.

"I thought we were friends.  But apparently I don't rank that high on your list," she said bitterly.  Cas shook his head.

"This had nothing to do with not ranking high enough or whatever else you might have thought.  I was afraid if you knew about Dean turning into a demon you would insist on killing him," he confessed.

"You didn't know that.  You didn't trust me enough to tell me, plain and simple.  Look, I get it, Dean and Sam, they mean a lot to you.  Maybe more than I'll ever understand.  But Castiel, I  _want_ to understand.  I want to know what it feels like to care so much for someone that you will continually sacrifice everything for them and fight to the end.  I am  _trying_ to help you, but you won't let me.  If you don't let me in, I can't do anything at all," Hannah's face softened, the anger and betrayal fading from her eyes.

"What are you talking about?  You can't do anything about what?" Cas asked suspiciously.

"We just lost eight of our brothers and sisters.  The angels are angry, looking for someone to blame.  I've done what I can to shift attention away from you, but I can't hide information from them Castiel.  Eventually they'll find out who was responsible.  And they will want Dean Winchester killed."  Cas stood up so fast he knocked over his chair.  With one fist on the desk, he leaned over Hannah menacingly.

"I won't let that happen."

"How exactly?  You've started _sleeping_.  You want to explain to me how you plan on preventing Dean, the bearer of the Mark of Cain and wielder of the First Blade and a group of trained and healthy angels from tearing each other apart when you are barely holding together at the seams?  Don't try to mitigate the damage, I know how much you've deteriorated.  Look at yourself Castiel!" she exclaimed.  Cas turned toward the mirrors visible on the cabinets.  Hannah was right.  His eyes were red, diluting the bright blue, uneven stubble trailed across his face, dark shadows were apparent from sleepless nights, worry lines looked like they were starting to become permanent.

"Look, I'm not even sure if it's possible to kill him.  He's a Knight of Hell but he's _the_ Knight of Hell," Hannah tried in a reconciliatory tone, reaching for Cas' clenched fist beginning to splinter the wood of the desk.  He jerked back.

"I'm not about to let them test that theory," Cas said heatedly.  Finally Hannah became too exasperated to try calming Cas down.  She stood too.

"What would you have me do?" she demanded, "Lie to them like you do??"  Cas glanced away guiltily.

"You wanted to save us, to prevent violence among angels, regain heaven.  And we have that now.  I believe you when you say that Dean didn't mean for Tessa to die.  But this?  This is indisputable!  He has turned into a demon Castiel, everything that you, Sam, and Dean when he was still human vowed to fight against.  He is no longer himself.  Will you follow him down his dark path?  What are you willing to do?"  Hannah tried to meet Cas' eyes, to get a straight answer out of him.  Cas seemed to be holding his breath, trying to decide how to answer.

"I don't know," he finally released in a gasp.  Hannah shook her head pityingly.

"And that is exactly what scares me about you Castiel."  She placed her palms on her desk, determining how to deal with the situation.  Their raised voices had started to attract attention.  Angels were hovering about the background attempting to blend and be unnoticed but they were all desperately trying to hear what their leader and his next in command were arguing about.

"I don't command you Castiel so I can't tell you what path you should take.  But either you find a way to stop these killings, stop Dean, or I will have no choice but to let the angels make that decision for you."

"Hannah..." Cas pleaded.  She turned away from him.

"We're done here."


	8. Chapter 8

Sam sat at the table that dominated the center of the bunker, scanning his screen for any useful information.  Cas had been getting worse.  He thought that Sam hadn't noticed, but he had.  Sam had picked up on Cas' weakening health despite his attempts to hide it almost as soon as it had started.  His talent for picking up on details wasn't merely useful for researching.  Castiel was not going to die while Sam watched.

"Hello Sam."  Sam slammed his laptop shut and knocked over a stack of books in his rush to turn around.  He breathed.

"Damn it Cas, you have to stop doing that.  You scared the hell out of me.  I need to put a cow bell on you or something."

Cas squinted at Sam, "I am not a cow."

"No," Sam smiled, "I know that Cas you don't need to tell me."  Cas gestured at the scattered books on the floor.

"Have you made any progress?"

"Uh... yeah!  Definitely, making progress," Sam laughed uncomfortably.  He knelt down to gather up the books.  Cas bent to pick one up, smoothing out the ruffled pages.  Sam tried to take the book from him to add to the stack but not before he was able to read some of what was on the page.

"This research has to do with angels Sam, not demons.  I am confused as to how this is relevant?" Cas questioned.  There were days where Sam wished Cas wasn't quite so oblivious.  This was not one of those days.

"Well I figured we've already looked through most of the demon stuff, maybe there was something hidden in angel lore?" Sam explained, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly.  In truth, he was starting to become desperate.  He could find nothing on Dean's situation, nor Cas'.  Sam clapped his hands together in an attempt to break the silence.

"Do you want some pancakes?" Sam called over his shoulder while heading to the kitchen.

"I've never tried them before, but sure," Cas acquiesced.  There was a silent agreement to not mention the fact that Cas now needed to eat and sleep.  Perhaps not as much as a human needs, but definitely much more than an angel ever would.

Some people preferred to make their pancakes from scratch, thought they tasted better.  But Sam liked his box of pancake mix he'd bought at the store.  Not because he was lazy.  Days and days of eating cereal every morning while their dad was out hunting got boring.  Sometimes Dean would slip out to a nearby grocery store and come home clutching a cheap box of generic pancake mix behind his back as though he was Santa bringing presents on Christmas.  Sam always thought Dean felt like that, but of course he'd never admit it.  He was the one who told Sam Santa didn't exist in the first place.

_"Sammy, guess what?"_

_"Whatcha got behind your back?"_

_"We're gonna have pancakes for breakfast today!"_

Sam measured out a couple cups of pancake mix into a bowl.  Tiny clouds of white floated through the air every time Sam dumped a cupful of mix.  Cas watched quietly, sitting on counter behind Sam.  Sam started humming softly.  He cracked a grin.  Tonally challenged as usual.  The tune just sort of sounded like the same note.

"The Imperial March from Star Wars?" Cas commented.  Sam gaped at Cas.

"How...?"

"I'm very pop culture savvy now," Cas responded ruefully.  Two cups of mix, 1 and a half cups of water, stir until even consistency.  The stove clicked then flared up into a small blue flame.  A small amount of butter melted in the pan.  Sam tilted the pan one way then the other until the entire bottom was properly buttered.

"You look better today," Sam noticed.  The dark circles under Cas' eyes were less apparent; he stood slightly straighter today.

"I had a much better night's sleep last night."  Sam smirked.  He'd gone looking for Cas late last night, panicking because he wasn't to be found in any of the common rooms or the bedroom that Sam had designated for him.  Lo and behold he'd found the angel fast asleep on Dean's bed, face buried in the pillow.  But hey, if it helped him sleep better Sam wasn't going to complain.  He poured a ladle-full of mix into the pan, the thick liquid spreading out into a wonky circle.  Sam was more concerned about taste than presentation.

"Cas?  In the refrigerator there should be a small container of blueberries, could you get it for me?" he asked.  Cas hopped down from the counter as though it were completely normal to be sitting there in the first place.  He opened the left door.

"No, that's the freezer, the other side," Sam corrected.  Cas closed the freezer and opened the refrigerator, snagging the blueberries from the top shelf before handing them to Sam.  Sam took out a handful and sprinkled a few into the still cooking pancake.

"You can put those in pancakes?" Cas asked curiously.  He leaned over, inspecting the bubbles rising from the cooking batter.

"Of course," Sam replied, "And you might want to step back, it's hot.  Also, I can't cook these if you're standing in my way."  Cas sat down at the table, try to stay out of Sam's way.  Sam flipped finished pancakes onto a spare plate.  The rich smell filled the kitchen and spread out into the surrounding bunker.  For the first time since the whole fiasco with Dean started, it felt like home, even if only for a little while.  Sam was going to do whatever he could to get Dean back, but in the meantime he had an angel with feathers falling out of his wings on his hands.

Sam set down a plate with a couple warm pancakes drizzled with syrup on it in front of Cas.  Cas cut off an experimental bite, chewing slowly.  Sam watched carefully.  A ghost of a smile appeared on Cas' face.

"It's good Sam, thank you.  These are really delicious."

"No problem.  I got a reputation for making them on the weekends when I went to Stanford.  Jess..." Sam trailed off, almost confused as to what he just said.  Cas looked up.

"Jess?" he inquired.

"Jessica Moore.  Prettiest girl I ever saw.  She used to kick my butt in classes too.  Never met a girl as smart as she was.  I... I meant to marry her one day," Sam said sadly.  Now Cas smiled genuinely, a spark of the old Cas lighting up his face.

"Jess, I remember her now...  She has a very beautiful heaven Sam.  It's full of memories of you."  Cas took the dirty dishes and washed them in the sink before leaving them out to dry.

"Thank you for breakfast again.  It's a human tradition I could get used to," Cas said before leaving.  Sam watched him go.  He was glad Cas liked the pancakes.  You could say it was an apology.  Sam wished he didn't have to do this to Cas.  It was the only way.  He'd done his research.  Read everything there was about angel grace.  If there was a way to get Cas' grace back, Sam didn't know how.  But he definitely couldn't keep the stolen grace inside of him.  Unless he stole another angel's grace to replenish it, which brought with it a whole new host of problems, if he stayed this way much longer he would die.

Pulling out the Men of Letters' syringe from his jacket, all of a sudden it felt very heavy in his hand.  Cas was going to have to get used to breakfast; it's part of being human.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea for Jess' heaven come from this post: http://makotohtachibana.tumblr.com/post/76529201782  
> Thank you Kelly!


End file.
